


Figuratively Speaking

by Celly1995



Series: "Will It Blend?" [4]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hockey Player Patrick Kane, Idiots in Love, Jonny is Not a Pro Hockey Player, M/M, Puns & Word Play, smoothies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 08:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20171554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celly1995/pseuds/Celly1995
Summary: Patrick is inspired by Jonny's ingredients. Jonny is inspired by Patrick.





	Figuratively Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> I'd wanted to finish & post my much longer 1988 fic for 8-8-19, but had to settle for something shorter, since finishing it definitely didn't happen in time. This hit me a month ago, and I promptly forgot about it until partway through work this morning, when I figured I should just get it down before I forgot about it again. Many thanks to my friends--especially Esby and Groolover--for indulging both my general ridiculousness and my brain's frequent refusals to pick a title.

Jonny's entire kitchen counter—both of them, in fact, plus the island— is covered in produce and dairy-free milk options when Patrick takes two steps inside the kitchen, stops, and lets out a low whistle, the end of the sound lost under the whir of Jonny's small bullet blender. When it's done running, Jonny looks up and raises his eyebrows, awaiting the judgement implied in Patrick's little noise. "What?" It's maybe just the tiniest bit more aggravated than he anticipates. He hopes Patrick knows it's not due to the fact that he's shown up without notice and let himself in through the unlocked door— especially since Jonny's repeatedly told him that's a thing he's allowed to do whenever he's hanging out at home.

"You're, uh, you're really going hard at perfecting new smoothies for your specials board, huh?"

Jonny's eyes scan briefly over his countertops. There are three different cutting boards in use, two zesters, four or five small ceramic bowls holding dried fruits, three different jars of nut butters, a handful of bottles from his spice cabinet, a bag of chia seeds, and nearly a dozen clear plastic pint containers with bite-sized bits of fruits or vegetables laid out over every surface. There are also two other blended concoctions in their half-full blender cups at the edge of the furthest counter. The first one had been pretty good, but the second one had been only decent. He's hoping for better on this one. "Maybe." He nods to the completed drinks. "Might go better if you're willing to taste-test."

Patrick takes his own inventory of all the ingredients taking up counter space, then shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I could do that."

"Great. Then help yourself. I've got one more idea I want to try. You can help me figure out which two to have the staff vote on. And then I'll clean up, and we can figure things out from there." It's been almost a week since Jonny's seen Patrick. Normally, he'd be fucking thrilled at the unexpected visit. But he's got sort of a mess right here, and a goal he's damn near reaching. All he needs is another five minutes, maybe ten, and then he can actually enjoy having time with Patrick to himself.

Patrick surprises him by starting to put away a few of the ingredients strewn about once Jonny reaches for the blender blade attachment to finish off the last smoothie, and when Jonny's rinsing the blade in the sink, he thinks he hears Patrick muffle something like a giggle.

Sure enough, about ten seconds later, Patrick clears his throat, and Jonny looks up, raising his eyebrows in a wordless question.

Patrick looks especially pleased with himself, and Jonny has a horrified little flashback to the moment Patrick presented him with that damned pumpkin spice flavored condom for the first time. "I know what we should do tonight," he says, tone suggestive.

Jonny hopes to god there are no artificial flavors involved in whatever Patrick's suggestion is. "Oh? What's that?"

Patrick reaches over and snatches something from one of the dishes on the counter with exaggeratedly casual movements and a matching expression, then neatly tosses the item in his hand to Jonny without saying anything, obviously waiting for Jonny's reaction.

Jonny opens his hand and looks at what's in his palm. He stares for a moment, then blinks, like maybe it'll make sense in some other way if he does so. "Uh…" He holds up the dried fig Patrick's tossed him. "Okay," he says slowly. "I know we've done some kinky shit before, but if this is you saying you want to try figging, that's...uh…."

Patrick's brows furrow. "What?" He squints at what Jonny's holding up. "Wait. Shit. No. This. I meant to toss you _this_." He quickly grabs something from the bowl next to the one holding the figs, then lobs it Jonny's way, his face pink.

This time, Jonny rolls his eyes as he sees what he's holding, but he grins a little in spite of himself. "A date? You're such a loser."

Patrick shrugs one shoulder, his mouth lifting on the opposite side in a crooked grin. "But I'm your loser." The way he says it— a little smug, a little sarcastic, a lot fond— makes something flutter deep in Jonny's chest.

"Can't say I'm upset about that," Jonny admits, emptying his hands and moving towards Patrick, tugging him closer by his sweater. Patrick hums happily and moves in, eyes slipping shut as their mouths meet. He kisses Jonny like he's been waiting to do this since they last saw each other six days ago, and the sweetness of their kiss is only heightened by the lingering traces of ripe pear and maple syrup on Patrick's tongue.

"Willing to be seen out in public with me, even?" Patrick murmurs in his ear, and Jonny's entire left side breaks out in goosebumps at the warm exhalation.

"I think I could agree to a date, if that's really how you want to spend the evening." He nips gently at Patrick's lower lip. "But also amenable to staying in and having you all to myself."

Patrick grins at him, the smile making him look years younger as it slowly spreads across his face and settles into place. "I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow. So we can do dinner and a movie or something, then spend the next several hours occupied with other things." He laughs. "But probably not the thing you initially thought I was suggesting."

"That's maybe sort of a relief," Jonny says with a soft snort, hooking a finger through one of Patrick's belt loops and feeling a wave of warmth roll over him when Patrick leans in, pressing their bodies against each other. Their mouths are so close that they're practically sharing breath, and Jonny sometimes has trouble believing he's this lucky, to have someone that puts up with him and wants him the way Patrick's always showing Jonny he does. "Besides," he says, voice little more than a whisper, their noses brushing for a single moment as their foreheads practically touch. He winds one of Patrick's curls around the tip of a finger and gives it a gentle tug. "Figging's done with ginger, anyway, and I used the last of it."

Caught off-guard, Patrick huffs in amusement. Jonny smiles and kisses Patrick like _he's_ been wanting to do for the last six days, deep and just a little dirty, sucking on the tip of Patrick's tongue to finish it off and earning a high-pitched sort of moan that Jonny knows means kitchen cleanup—and possibly their dinner and movie—might wait just a little longer than originally planned.


End file.
